


Beautiful

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Female!Alpha!Kylo, Female!Kylo, Gender Dysphoria, Gender or Sex Swap, Male!Alpha!Poe, Omega Verse, Transgender meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6646783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo is an Alpha female. Poe is an Alpha male. Kylo wishes she'd been born an omega, it would make their life so much easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

Females almost always present as omega, or as beta. That’s just how it goes. Men are Alphas, and if they are, they’re clapped on the back. Good, strong men. Good, strong sires. The crème de la crème. And even if people no longer look so obviously disdainful of their male betas and omegas in public, it happens.

Then, for the women, omega fertility is the preferred thing. Even now, the whole culture is geared towards that male-Alpha, female-omega pairing. It’s the _expected_ thing. Betas are cut out of big romance and sexual advertising, male omegas are ridiculed and feminised, and female Alphas…

Yeah. She had to go and be one, didn’t she? She’s tall for a woman, and although there’s a lithe, powerful grace to her, she’s nothing like the _idealised_ version of what a woman should be. Not the omega woman, anyway. And she doesn’t even feel at home in the type she truly is, like she was somehow pushed through the wrong box, somewhere along the line. Like the two parts of her insides don’t match up, and she’s forced to live a half-lie, whatever she does.

And Kylo tries to tell herself that it’s okay. That she doesn’t have to be like the women in the holos. They’re so ridiculously shaped, and her fingers trace their contours longingly. She doesn’t want to _fuck_ one, she wants to **be** one. She has no desire to follow through on her biological coding and take an omega of either gender for herself. She has plenty of male omega friends who probably wish she would, but she can’t quite bring herself to socialise much with female omegas. She’s too jealous, so she keeps it at a polite, professional distance.

That way they don’t know how much she longs to be them, because that’s private. How she follows the in-out sweep of their waistlines. The broad hips, ready to carry and birth children. The arch of their spines, the throats left on display indecently so ready to be bitten and claimed. Kylo doesn’t want to claim them. She wants to be _claimed_. 

And not be fetishised, which she realises is completely ridiculous. She’s here turning all those gross things they sell about omega-ness into her private spank bank, and hates the way people see Alpha female and think she must be some kind of dominatrix, or some Strong, Silent Type. One without feelings, just brute strength. It’s all bullshit on every side, and it makes her private fantasies taste like ash because she knows she’s just perpetuating the stereotypes from her own little sordid, wicked mind. Even if she isn’t pinning down a bitch and telling them she’ll breed them good and hard, she’s _wanting it_ , so how does that make her any better?

Poe, bless him, always tells her it doesn’t matter. That you can have sexual fantasies in the bedroom and not feel guilty, if you’re not actually forcing them on anyone. That it’s okay - even healthy - to indulge in them, whilst realising the limits. That she can fantasise deeply about being in heat, so long as she doesn’t try to go around enforcing the gender-type-work-prejudices. People are people, after all. If they agree to play by the rules, then fine. If they want their own rules, that’s fine, too.

It’s just… she really wishes she knew what it was like. Heat. She wishes she knew, because it looks so… _intriguing_. The idea of being flooded with the need to bond with your mate, and not just sexually. A flush of hormones intended to make you get closer with them, to deepen your relationship. A soft, hungry heart and kisses. Then, of course, the hormonally-charged fucking also sounds pretty good. She remembers when she was still on the verge of presenting, when she was sure her first heat-slick was any minute away. She’d present as omega, and Poe would claim her, and all would be fine. 

She’d been desperate for the slick to come, wondering if the vague amounts of sticky sensation when she touched herself would resolve into a real slick. Maybe if she could touch herself enough, could ride her fingers hard enough, then it would trigger? She’d thought about Poe mounting her, sliding his cock between her folds and dipping into that drizzle, drenching the crown in her welcoming juices before pushing inside. Pushing in, and taking her slow, at first. She’d imagined he’d be like that, holding her hips still and growling her all Alpha-like to take it at his pace. She’d heard the Alpha tones in his voice since he’d presented, and it had made her knees weak. A command, and then he’d take her to the edge of ecstasy by ramming slow and hard into her hole. Over and over, taking her cunt until her thighs trembled, until she was begging for him to knot her good. His shaft thrusting that last bit up through her entrance, deep into her passage, then swelling so even through all the slick he wasn’t coming out. How he’d expand and torment her flush sex, then spurt his seed so far into her. So, so far into her. Make her all but explode with how much he came into her darkness, and then they’d kiss while he made sure she took. Make sure her no-longer virgin body was put to its proper use in being the dam to his stud, the mother to his children.

She wasn’t even wholly sure she wanted the children, but it was always there in the fantasy. She’d rub her clit sore with the imagery, punish it as hard as she could, pinch and press and keep it up until her body screamed at her to stop. She’d slide through the hot, wet folds and tease at her hole before stuffing as many fingers as her wrist would get in place. Desperately chasing her climax, and then going after it until she literally couldn’t, and fell back panting. 

But her heat never came. She’d even started noting when others had theirs to plan for when it would likely happen, and by the time she was eighteen she’d had a fake cycle plotted out for the longest time when Leia sat her down.

“Kylo, sweetie… we think it’s time you went to see the doctor for confirmation.”  


“No. No… I’m pre-cycling, I am.”  


“Kylo… it’s okay. You know some betas have their own, less-intense cycle?”  


“I’m not a beta!”  


“…we just want to see what the doctor says. And you could be an Alpha. Alpha ruts can often be mistaken for pre-cycling. I should know.”  


Kylo hated her mother, then. Her mother who had likely cursed her with the female Alpha genetics. She knew her patterns of arousal worked perfectly well for an Alpha or beta, too, and the lack of a significant slick or heat-smell was pretty much answering the question, but she did **not** want to give in on her body, not yet. She just needed one heat and then Poe could legitimately mate her, and claim her, and everything would be fine.

Poe would do it, of course. They were in love, and she didn’t care if people kept insisting that your childhood sweetheart was a different kind of love to real mates. She knew. She’d always known. Poe got her in ways that no one else did, and they hadn’t exactly become friends with the intention of falling for one another, but they had. She loved to spend time with him, loved to stay up all night talking, and she loved when they went on little dates to the cinema, or for meals. He was her best friend in everything, and her stomach got all skippy, now, when they sat too close. When their hands brushed. When Poe pushed her long, black hair back and kissed her temple. It had driven her mad for what felt like forever, and when he presented Alpha, Kylo had _told her body_ that she would be an omega for him, no matter what.

The doctor had other ideas. He’d diagnosed late onset female Alpha, and told her that she’d develop the secondary sexual characteristics soon. He also advised she see a counsellor for her dysphoria, and told her to take tablets to stop her hysterical omega-cycle-delusions.

Kylo had refused. Refused, and cried on Poe’s shoulder all night. She’d broken out of her home and gone to Poe’s barracks, sneaking through security and demanding he fix it, somehow.

She’d never expected Poe would declare he didn’t care that she was an Alpha, too. And that she could take suppressants to stop her secondary sexual development, and that they could live like a ‘normal’ couple would if it was what she wanted. She’d never expected her wonderful Poe would accept her, no matter what.

Leia had definitely been surprised the next day, when the two teenagers appeared, holding hands. Holding hands, and declaring their intent to wed. Poe asked Leia for her permission, and Han had made a noise and left, and Kes had said he agreed, and Leia… well. Kylo’s mother had agreed on the proviso that Kylo attend counselling for a year, first, and didn’t leap into things. Kylo had readily agreed, and a year later, they’d wed.

And it had been wonderful. It had. It didn’t matter what her body said, when Poe bit her and told the world that she belonged to _him_ , her body had been all too happy to agree.

Sometimes, though, Kylo still wonders if Poe feels disappointed that Kylo’s heats are all in her head. She can’t get as wet as a real omega can, but she does have most of the basic anatomy. She can still get wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, and Poe never seems to have problems tying with her, but even the pheromone sprays they’d bought weren’t quite the same as a real heat-scent. _She_ enjoys it. Poe always says he does, too. She hopes it’s not a half-life for him, too. It’s the best she can do, and she always worries it is somehow cruel to make a regular male Alpha all hers, but Poe wouldn’t ever back down if she told him that.

The hormones she takes make her moody enough to be a stereotypical omega, anyway. She definitely has her better moments, and her worse. Just before her fake-heat she only realises it’s about to happen when she’s crying into pasta or icecream, or glaring at her shoes for being too tight. Then she insists on more cuddling time, and Poe always obliges. She keeps the worst of her mood swings to herself (sure it’s because she’s flooding her body with the drugs, instead of because it’s normal to swing a little up and down), but Poe’s attentive behaviour always makes her feel like a real omega.

And that’s nice. Really nice. He kisses the back of her neck, and he wraps his arms around her, and he tells her how beautiful she is. He puts his hands on her belly, wordlessly, and grinds against her ass until her legs go weak. Sometimes he will drop to his knees, or push her onto the bed and eat her out until she is sure she can’t take a single thing more before he’ll dream of entering her. He’ll push two fingers into her as he tongues her clit, makes her body shudder out as much juice as it can before he’ll take her, hard. 

When they’re doing that, she’s sure she _is_ in heat. There’s no other explanation for the way he goes to town on her sex, how he brushes her curls away and won’t emerge until his five o’clock shadow is glistening with her arousal. Won’t stop until she’s begging, her legs trembling and her voice breaking over cries for him to knot her, knot her good. 

And he does. He’ll fuck her on the kitchen table, on the couch, on the bed. Anywhere and everywhere. He’ll fuck her and tell her what a beautiful mate she is, his lips tracing the claiming bite on her throat. He’ll tell her she’s the most beautiful woman alive, and that he loves her subtle curves and her full lips and her long legs. Tell her how he’s thought of nothing but her, all day. Tell her he’s wanted to taste her, to feel her dark walls around his cock. To sink inside and never come out. To cup her full breasts and tease her nipples with his thumbs, to tweak and tug until she shudders. To put his hands on her hips and kiss her so she tastes herself on his tongue, and to take her to bed, after. Take her to bed and stroke her hair, stroke her cheek, stroke her belly, stroke her thighs. Himself fully sated, her body still flush with their lovemaking. To dip a finger just inbetween her lips and slowly draw circles over her clit until she begs him to stop. To make her come so hard, so hard that there’s no doubt in her mind that she’s his. That she’s _his_. Maybe she wasn’t born an omega, but she’s **his** omega, all the same.

Kylo doesn’t know what she’s done to deserve him, she doesn’t.

But she’s his, and that’s all that will ever matter. She drops the holo, and smiles when he comes through the door.

“Hey,” she tells him.  


“Hey, beautiful.”  


Maybe she is. If he thinks she is, maybe she is. 


End file.
